Poem From Midnight Solo

 Take Off

i.m. Dad

 

Rain slabbers across the windows as we turn

on Runway 22, accelerate and lift

into the air above the taciturn

streets and the shipyard drenched in mist.

 

My ears pop as we drift through candyfloss,

rise from the cotton sea into a sky

the colour of your eyes and mine. As we cruise,

my thoughts freefall and I imagine I hear you sighing

 

as you mull over your cryptic crossword:

six across – shuffle a languid anger.

You taught me to look upwards, see further

when we stood by the fence at Dublin airport,

 

watching the planes pass into the grey.

Now I know they crash through to the light.

I love it up here where the streets look so tiny

I could sweep them into my fist

 

and I could walk on clouds to the horizon

and beyond. Would I find you there, smiling

down on me as I travel so fast

I look as if I’m standing still?

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